Hidden In The Walls of Hogwarts
by slasher454
Summary: Hermione has a rather unexpected encounter in the dungeons late one night. Rated M


**Disclaimer:** Not my characters. JKR owns all.

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If only she hadn't been such a snoop.

If only she'd been quieter.

Or, better at disillusionment charms.

Instead she found herself in a dark and cramped space, hiding from Professor Snape, who was quite sure he had seen an errant student head this way and was now slowly stalking, casting revealing charms, and muttering threats of what he was going to do when he found his prey.

If only she'd had the map.

If only the dungeons weren't so dark.

If only the secret alcove she'd hurried into weren't already occupied.

Her frantic, regretful thoughts scattered as Theodore Nott stared down at her hard, his dark eyes piercing into hers, accusing her silently while he adjusted his position to accommodate her presence.

The secret space was tiny, hardly big enough for one, and she had only just discovered it on the Marauder's Map a few days earlier. She hadn't considered that anyone else might know where it was and how to get into it.

Another _if only_.

The space was not only small, but rather stuffy, and being pressed against Theodore wasn't helping matters. She earned herself a sneer and a threatening glare from him when she stepped on his foot while trying to move so their bodies weren't so close.

He moved his foot from under hers and she suddenly found herself in a much more awkward position.

Pressed just as tightly against him as before, one of his thighs was now wedged firmly between hers. Her breath hitched, and she subdued it, only breathing shallowly, but, try as she may to ignore or suppress it, the feeling of his warm, firm thigh pressing against _that spot_ was sending seriously erotic thrills through her.

And it was ridiculous.

She didn't even like him.

His aristocratic airs, his haughty smirks, and worse, his quiet confidence and easy academic success. She didn't just not like him. She practically hated him. From the top of his careless yet perfect hair, to the tip of his stupid high polished shoes. And, gods, were his robes made of cashmere?

The spoiled brat.

But, oh, did his body feel good pressed against hers. Particularly the bit of him that was on the brink of making her tremble.

She didn't mean to, but she couldn't help it, and she moved, just slightly, intensifying the pleasure of his pressure against her and wrenching a barely audible moan from her. And she hated herself for being such an open book to him, because his eyebrows immediately raised slightly and his lips twitched toward a smile. He knew she was aroused, and he pressed _harder_ in response.

She sucked in a quick breath of fear and excitement. If he pressed just a little harder, if he moved just a little more …

His breath was hot on her face as she looked up at him desperately. Professor Snape was inching along the walls, still hissing malevolently, coming closer and closer. Theodore smiled wickedly and rubbed against her slowly and skillfully. Her breath hitched again and she grabbed hold of his shoulders to steady herself. He smirked, the bastard, and held her helpless gaze as he slid down a bit to find a more satisfying angle for both of them.

She held her gasp at the pleasure of it, refusing to let him know just how much he was effecting her. Of course, he knew anyway. His smirk broadened and he tucked his head down and breathed heavily against the crook of her neck before giving it a swipe of his tongue. She gripped his shoulder tighter and lowered her head to nuzzle and whisper in his ear.

"What are you doing," she breathed rather desperately. His dark hair was soft, so soft against her nose and cheek, and it smelled deliciously spicy and sweet.

He smiled against her neck before kissing his way up to her ear. "Exactly what you want me to do."

She couldn't help her cocky grin. "Well, not exactly," she whispered cheekily.

He lifted his face from her neck to meet her eye and the corner of his mouth lifted in an adorably lopsided smile. His eyes gleamed with amusement even as they challenged her. "Show me," he whispered.

She didn't hesitate to comply, slipping her hands up from his shoulders to tangle in his damnably silky hair and drag him down until his lips met hers. And, oh, he tasted like candy. She didn't need to encourage him to open his mouth for her, it was like he was reading her mind. Every tilt, lick, suck, and nibble received and returned in perfect timing.

It couldn't be happening, but it was, and her head was spinning. She was so close to losing control and Professor Snape was so close to catching them both. Theodore appeared unaffected, but she felt his arousal pulse against her as he continued to grind his hips and upper thigh tightly against her.

She gripped him hard, afraid she might moan out loud in her pleasure and alert Snape to their precise location.

"Stop," she begged in barely a whisper, "I'm going to … I'm going to …."

"That's the idea," he replied in kind, and then covered her mouth with his while he continued to rub her below.

The hot wet of his mouth, his soft, slick tongue sliding against hers, his erection moving against her, pressing in so perfectly, so precisely the right way, all combined to push her up and up until she saw stars. He continued to rub in that flawless rhythm and she pulsed, and clenched, and rode the waves of her climax until they crested and gently receded. She felt boneless, and was thankfully still pressed tightly against him and held securely in his arms.

Her soft huffs of breath into his mouth were the only noise she was aware of making, and she felt him grin proudly as he kissed her for the last time.

"To be continued," he whispered softly.

She turned wide eyes up to him just as Snape's hand came through the illusionary wall blocking the alcove from view and roughly yanked Theodore out into the corridor.

Hermione held her breath and ducked as Snape reached into the wall a second time, grasping at air and feeling along the walls for another student to castigate and dock points from. His hand narrowly missed her shoulder and she slid down the wall as he made another grab, a bit lower, just missing getting a fist full of her hair.

Theodore sniggered impudently, regaining Snape's attention, who turned on him with a malevolent sneer.

"Five points from Slytherin, Mr. Nott," Snape hissed angrily, "for your stupidity and cheek. If you ever force me to waste time rooting you out of some pathetic little hidey-hole again, it will be detention with Mr. Filch and a letter to your father. Now, get to bed."

He let go of Theodore and gave him a shove toward the Slytherin dungeon, and then gave one last look toward the alcove where Hermione sat praying he couldn't hear her anxious breaths or the wild beat of her heart as it rang so loudly in her own ears. Snape gave a small snort of disgust, and stormed off toward Slytherin house himself, his robes billowing out behind him, leaving a relieved Hermione to catch her breath and regain control over her spinning thoughts.

It had all happened so fast, she couldn't quite believe it.

She gently touched her lips, still swollen from his kisses. _His_ kisses. Oh, it couldn't be possible. Not with him. Not with _Nott_, that most smug of smug bastards. That pretentious pureblood prat. That sneaky, snarky Slytherin ... sex god.

She covered her face with her hands and breathed a sigh, long and longing. Her heart persisted to beat wildly, though more excitedly than anxiously, and continued to ring in her ears along with his last words.

_To be continued._

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**A/N: **Hope you had as much fun reading it as much as I did writing it : )


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